


Draw

by marasahana



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Huang Ren Jun-centric, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other, Self-Harm, everybody loves renjun, not much on ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marasahana/pseuds/marasahana
Summary: Renjun liked to draw.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Everyone, Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno, Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee, Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Huang Ren Jun/Park Jisung, Huang Ren Jun/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 14
Kudos: 158





	Draw

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am back with another fic because I had this idea sitting in my head for weeks (or months) since I saw that dream vlive in Indonesia. Also, once again I have told myself to "make something short" and by that I mean 1.5K words or something..... I honestly don't know how this ended with 5k+ words akdhfkhglsg. Anyways, another crappy and seemingly rushed fic but enjoy! 
> 
> (This work is not beta read, by the way.)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: SELF-HARM, DEPRESSION. Please be warned and stay safe!

Little Renjun had always liked to draw. He was always more interested with the way he moves his pencil to create imperfect circles and oddly squares rather than scribbling shaky numbers and letters in his notebook.

He loved it when his innocent childlike drawings end up in their daycare’s room board. His practice tests with perfect scores, not so much. He fell in love with the way colors spill their way from his paper to his little fingers, the way he can get the strokes of a pencil match with the marks a crayon offers.

Renjun has always been amazed, even at a young age, how art has seemed to find its way to express something, anything. Art has been Renjun’s first love.

-

Renjun fell in love again when he encountered the art of singing and dancing. It’s like drawing, or coloring, or painting, but expressed in such a different medium. It amazes Renjun so much with how you can tell so much and feel so much with the melody of your voice or the movements of your fingers and feet.

When he found such discovery, he never wanted to let go. It was like meant for him to do, to sing and dance. It was second nature to feel such emotion and passion when he opens his mouth to use his voice in special ways and move his limbs in artistic techniques.

When realization hits him, it hits him hard. He pleads to his mother and father to give his dream a chance, even when it meant catching a train ride that would last for hours and possibly events that could land him in another country. But Renjun doesn’t mind.

Not really when he knows he can express himself through singing and dancing and tell so much to the world. He’s willing to take anything life offers to him.

-

There will be decisions in life that you are proud to have made. There are those who will haunt you for the rest of your life with regret. And there are some, where you don’t regret them enough to wish you could turn back time but not proud enough to put your head up high.

Leaving China for training in South Korea was one of these decisions for Renjun. Don’t get it wrong, he was so happy, _elated_ even, to come in the company he is in right now. He has met new friends and encountered many experiences to make him grow more of the person he has become.

There will be nights however, where he asks if everything is worth it, if everything he’s been doing so far was really worth the time, he spends it for. He doesn’t mean to do it, but he asks himself sometimes, of the possibilities of him not leaving his hometown Jilin for chasing his dreams here in Seoul.

Could he have been going to the middle school nearby his home and still be classmates with his friends that he has left? Maybe, if he never left, he would be preparing himself for a possible quiz for next week or answering some homework their teacher gave them that day. He could be watching some random videos on his phone as he lulls himself to sleep. Then he could imagine his friends waiting for him in his front gate as they walk together to school the next day. Then probably, they would go to a nearby arcade after class to treat themselves after a tiring school day.

It’s scary to Renjun how he could imagine such scenarios vividly and realistically. It’s like the little circuits in his mind is telling him that the little scenarios is what his life is _really supposed_ to be, like he has defied his fate and now he has to suffer the consequences of going against his destiny. Like he was left to suffer in homesickness and insecurities with his own actions. And sometimes, he believes, the words that creep away in the little edges of his brain.

_That he was not worth it with all he has to offer, but he comes to prove himself anyway,_ he hears.

_That there will be others better than him and can showcase better than what he can do and he will never get his chance to show himself to the world,_ he hears.

_That he has left everything he had just to pursue a mindless dream he isn't even sure he could achieve,_ he hears.

But it doesn’t matter, Renjun tells himself. After all, he is already here in Seoul, in a place far away from home, trying to compete with other trainees (which he doesn’t want to compete with, by the way) for a better chance of debut.

Here he is now, in the small bathroom of the cramped dorm he shares with the other Chinese trainees like him, who wish to see light in their starlit dreams. The deed has been done, and there is nothing else Renjun can do to convince himself rather than echo in his mind to continue on with life.

It isn’t really that comforting, but it’s enough for Renjun to not dawdle more on such thoughts and leave it be. It’s not the fix he needs, but it’s enough for now.

-

Renjun liked to draw. He loved the way how strokes and marks could be so sufficient to express much of what is needed to be spilt. He likes it when he can tell so much of himself simply with a flick of his finger or a set of simple touches on his work.

The problem is, Renjun isn’t in Jilin anymore. His paintbrushes and canvasses weren’t simply within his reach. And somehow along the way, the color pencils and sketch pad he brought along with him just wasn’t enough to satisfy what harboring emotions that resided within him. There is so much to feel, so much to say. And he wanted to let it out so much even if not all of it.

And so, Renjun learned the art of pain. He learned how to utilize cheap razors and graze them over his skin. When blood spills itself out of its wound, it stains itself to his skin and rarely his clothes. He lets the liquid drop itself to the tiles of the company’s bathroom floor.

The first time he has done this, he was so scared. So afraid of what could escalate from the situation and the consequences it could give. But it gives Renjun some sense of freedom, of expression. In a place where Renjun could do so little, the action of sliding the razor on his skin has given some sort of declaration art does the same for him.

And soon the time interval between the pain of cutting through his skin and feeling the numbness of the wound has grown shorter and shorter as the frequency of his tendencies grow more and more. He likes it when he can tell so much of himself simply with a flick of his finger or a set of simple touches on his work. He loved the way how strokes and marks could be so sufficient to express much of what is needed to be spilt.

Renjun really liked to draw.

-

Renjun is beautiful, everyone in his team would say. In all aspects of him.

It’s the way he would sway his arms and flutter his feet on the practice floor, _so captivating_. It’s the way his voice wraps you in an embrace as if lulling you to comfort rocking your body back and forth, _so enchanting_. It’s the way he smiles so innocently carefully showing the snaggletooth in his crowns, _so illuminating_.

Huang Renjun had the format of an ideal idol, and everyone in the team were grateful to have him as a member.

Renjun, however, is _ethereal_.

The way his eyes would light up with interest as he amuses himself with the secrets of the universe. The way the words he would simply let go out his mouth were so beautiful and endearing it charms everyone, anyone. The way he sees the folds of the world like a sole flower who did not seem to move even when the others of its kind have been swayed by the passing wind: different, building itself a backbone of its own.

Renjun was a gem of a person, like he could tiptoe across the seas of the earth and dance along the fields of the lands and everyone who would see him along his way would be thankful to have encountered his existence. The boy was a blessing, a gift to anyone his arms would open for some sort of bond.

-

Renjun is beautiful. He walks around like magic is wrapped around his hands, ready to turn everything around him brighter and lighter than it seems as if the spirits of the unwanted can be cast away with his mere presence. And yet, even the strongest magic spells can be broken somehow—may it be in a form of a flick of a wrist or a weakening of the knees of the spellcaster.

There he is, hours after looking for the lost boy, Renjun is finally right before their vision. And yet instead of earning the warmth of ease wrapping around their souls, the stabbing of cruel torment pierced through the chambers of their heart as Renjun leans himself on one of the of their company’s bathroom walls, his eyes half-lidded as the boy brinks himself between the conscious and the slumber.

Their eyes flicker on his arms, _and may they find the strength not to let the painful curls in the back of their throats burst waters down their eyelids,_ as lines of different lengths and directions carve themselves on the soft skin of Renjun’s. Blood still flows on some of the wounds as they make their way on the boy’s dark pants. It makes them feel nauseous with the thought that Renjun may have planned to wear those pants in order to hide the bloodstains his cuts may cause. The crimson liquid is also still dripping along the lines of the razor held between the boy’s fingers, his bag leaning beside himself.

Without the glowing smile grazed upon his lips and the dark circles plastered under his eyes, it’s as if Renjun waited for so long, to finally let himself fall the barriers that sheltered all his weariness away. It’s as if the features in his face is speaking so much of how we wanted to do this so much, even when he spoke no words on his closed lips and showed no sentiments on his shut eyes. Even when Renjun just lay there, limp and spiritless as he lets himself swallow into some void, they hear him scream into the spaces of their soul, _I'm tired and I just want to lay here forever, forget everything that was here_. And when the silent wails have finally touched the fiber of their beings, it shatters their remorse into pieces.

Mark crouches down as he slips a hand towards Renjun’s knees, lightly shaking him in fear of scaring the boy away. With a broken voice almost appearing as a whisper, he calls out. “Renjun.”

Renjun feels the sensation as he separates himself from the tranquility slumber offers to him. He opens his eyes slowly, basking the images flashed around him.

He sees the white ceiling, the lights blinding his sight as it stings around his vision. He squints his eyes.

He looks down and sees his rolled-up sleeve and the artworks he has created, sculpted upon his skin. Razor still present within his reach.

Oh yeah. That’s what he had been doing.

He has hidden himself once again from the eyes of others to express more of himself to himself, only to himself.

_Then why does it feel like his presence wasn't alone in the parameter of his safe space?_

He looks forwards and sees Mark right beside his knees, gazing over him with eyes so glassy and brows furrowed together. His face paints concern so much, Renjun mirrors the emotion within his own features.

He looks up and sees the faces of the rest of his members, cloning the worry _and shock?_ playing around their own surface. It took a couple seconds of staring before Renjun realizes the situation as he widens his eyes and straightens his back.

He reaches for the bag on his side with his wounded hand as he zips it open and rummages through his stuff.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—”

He pulls out a piece of tissue from a roll and wipes the blood from the razor.

“—you have to see me this way—”

He throws away the soaked tissue and pulls off a small box from the side of his bag as he stores the razor away.

“—all messed up and dirty. I didn’t mean—”

He pulls out more tissue from the roll and dabs it on his scarred arm, hissing a little bit on the touch.

“—to fall asleep while doing so. I hope— “

He throws them away and pulls out a bandage from his bag, ready to wrap the wound without proper medication.

“—you won’t tell anyone—”

Donghyuck falls himself on the ground, knees hitting the floor hard. It must have hurt, Renjun thought. The sound of the fall echoing throughout the bathroom was a testimony.

But Donghyuck doesn’t say anything about it. Donghyuck doesn’t say anything. His focus was still on Renjun, gaze seemingly lost but intense at the same time.

“Hyuck?”

Donghyuck does not respond and instead brings Renjun into an embrace. When he feels the warmth of Renjun radiating on his arms, Donghyuck cannot help but cry on the shoulders of the smaller boy.

“Hyuck, why are you crying? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not!” Donghyuck shouts in the comfort of Renjun’s shoulder but it was muffled when it came out. “Why would you be doing this then?!”

Renjun pulls Donghyuck away and smiles. It’s familiar, the smile that is. It was one of Renjun’s gentle smiles. One where he smiles to reassure, to give courage. And it’s scary, how Renjun could pull such a smile in times of misery. He cups Donghyuck’s face with a hand of his.

“I’m okay, Hyuck. This is just the way I cope. This is how I have to express so much of myself.”

Thumbs play along Donghyuck’s cheek.

“This is normal for me, Hyuck. Just let me be and everything will be fine.”

To Renjun, it was really just like that. The scars he places on his body are simply his way of letting out so much of himself. An outlet for his pent-up insides that seek a way out. Finding comfort in pain through the stings of the razor and the numbs of the cuts. An embrace from the darkness, but an embrace, nonetheless. Nothing more, nothing less.

Something within Donghyuck cracks as waterfalls soon stained his cheeks. He pries away Renjun’s touch on his face and once again brings them to an embrace, the affection being a little tighter than before.

Mark approaches Renjun and places a kiss on the younger’s forehead, a tear silently sliding down his own face.

Chenle, with so much tears running down his face, sits beside Renjun and leans on his ge’s shoulders as if reassuring himself that Renjun is there and he never left them.

Jisung has to turn away from the scene as he curls himself, hard breaking sobs come out of his chest as he tries to wipe big droplets on his face with no use.

Jeno and Jaemin rub on Jisung’s arched back, but not without comforting each other as Jeno bites his lips so much it almost bruises and Jaemin furrows his brow so much and frowns his lips so much just to choke up the overwhelming emotions that came along with their tears.

How blind could they have been? The sun always hides away at night. A machine will always malfunction along its service. An hourglass will always run out of sand. Even if he doesn’t say the words out loud, Renjun also gets tired, gets a taste of bitterness slapped on his reality. He doesn’t always shine and dance around like a breath of fresh air.

This moment, right now, is a dark moment for Renjun. He has fallen in an abyss of distress and darkness as he spirals himself into deep dreadful thoughts lurking inside his head. He is far, away from the fast-paced mechanisms of the world, creating a border between reality and his subconscious.

Renjun has hidden himself as he weakens his knees and crumbles upon his own miseries, cries howling the vast spaces inside the castles of his head. Renjun has chosen to lock himself away from the eyes of the world and carry the burden on his own shoulders.

Renjun is far. He has stayed away from the rest to weep with his own agony, thoughts of being alone in this fight dwelling within his inklings. Renjun is far, but the rest is willing to run for him. They will stay where Renjun wants to fight his own demons and they will stay there until they can pull Renjun out of the dark. They will hold unto Renjun until they can pull him out in the dark and lonely abyss. They will walk along the treacherous paths Renjun has been until they witness the rays of better days once again. They will be beside Renjun until gets to shine again not for others, but for himself.

It was up to the initiative of the team to take Renjun to the company’s in-house guidance counselor. It took them weeks, using soft but persuasive whispers and promises to convince the boy, who insists he is fine otherwise. When they were finally able to earn the sweet confirmation of Renjun, their heart rejoiced with joy. It was the start of the brighter days, maybe they aren’t that near yet but it was a faint pulse, a weak sign, but nonetheless a sign- they are moving forward. They are finally starting to walk together in this dark road. It makes the others rise feelings of anticipation on the pits of their stomachs.

Progress came faster than expected. Renjun’s trips to the bathrooms (or wherever he may hide) whenever stress seems to etch on his face became less frequent and he finds himself unlocking the unspoken parts of himself to others more often than he should. Soon, they find sincere smiles signature on his face even when the waves of time seem to be rough.

One day, Jisung finds Renjun squatted down the floors of their practice room, busy looking at the palms of his hand with a pen nearby. Curiosity (and worry) eats the younger as he approaches Renjun on his location.

“Hyung, what are you doing?”

Renjun looks up and greets Jisung a smile. It was a smile quite hard to decipher for Jisung. It wasn’t cold enough to be ingenuine, but the warmth wasn’t enough either to feel happiness radiating within it. It was, _serene_.

“Oh, Jisung.”

The younger notices scribbles written along the palms of Renjun in the form of dark ink.

“What are you doing?”

Renjun notices where Jisung’s gaze is focused upon and snaps himself up to ready a reply.

“Oh, this? Well, the psychologist told me that if I ever wanted to _do stuff where I want to express myself, —_ ”

_You mean harming yourself_. Jisung echoes in his head as a pinch in his heart is felt but chose to say nothing as his pinch is nothing compared to the behemoth of Renjun hyung’s stabbing pain.

“ _—_ I could always try writing on my skin. The expression is still there and it’s therapeutic at the same time. So I gave it a try.”

Renjun smiles once again. It’s that same smile earlier. Something within Jisung clicks. _It's calm_.

The sun rises again. The machine is now working back to its own system. The hourglass is now back to tipping little grains of sand to the other side. The rest knows it will not be always like this, but it’s okay.

The sun will disappear at night. The machine will malfunction sometimes. The sands of the hourglass will all soon fall on the other side. It’s okay. The sun will rise. The machine will work. The hourglass will flip. Renjun shines once again.

And even if he doesn’t, they will be there for him. They will be his moon, his temporary manual fix, his flipper of times.

Renjun is beautiful, in all aspects of him.

-

Renjun is a wonder. How such a little guy could have such a big heart. How his small arms could willingly carry millennia of stars for those his beloved. He is selfless. How he is able to caress the prickly cruel thorns just to reach his hands along the beautiful immaculate roses in earth’s garden, not for himself but for others. He is willing to let the ghosts of the vicious pass through him despite welcoming them with a warm embrace if it meant happiness was waiting for those who chose to neglect.

He, who has so much to offer to the world, but the world could give nothing that could equate to the gifts he has given. He, who gives himself wholeheartedly to others, when they have not spared even a piece of themselves for him.

Renjun is a wonder, a miracle, a blessing. And maybe they could not offer as much as Renjun could offer himself, they will give back: return the affection, the love. The little trinkets of affection against the grand diamonds of Renjun’s devotion, it isn’t worth the comparison but the warmth and appreciation that proclaims itself on the features of Renjun through smiles and stares manifests that it is enough and the message has somehow reached Renjun: he is loved.

-

Summers and winters have passed and Renjun, along with the rest, has finally seen their dreams grow ablaze upon them as they take steps forward towards the spotlight, the rest of the world focused on them. To have songs and choreographies proudly to call his, Renjun has finally shown the world what he has been longing to shout, express in the longing void.

Success, however, has taught Renjun that despite its presence, happiness doesn’t necessarily always have to come along with it. The two simply do not come in pairs. They come and they go, simply not relying on the existence of the other.

Renjun learns this when there are times he wants to take his steps back and retreat to a corner of his own. And maybe he may not long for the whispers of the razor anymore, but instead he wishes to graze upon his touch a pen, and walk along the ink as he may form shapes or lines or whatever are the roars of the heart that is needed to be shaken off.

Just like earlier, as he waits for their turn to stage upon the spotlight their artwork, in a foreign land where people who has accepted wholly his works waits upon their exhibition. The whispers along his head mindlessly wanders into some sort of shadows that seem ready to swallow him whole.

And so in a room where motion seems too move to fast as adrenaline rushes upon the veins, Renjun sees everything in small waves, with him trying to catch up with the rapid shifts of movement of the bodies around him.

He slips himself in a corner, as he picks up a pen somewhere along his timid actions of wishing to disappear for a while. He also sneaks some wet wipes along the way, to erase the evidence of his gloom.

Ready to graze the pen on his arms as random patterns of shapes are already on his head, Renjun suddenly remembers the love he has received over the years of his career. Arms of adoration embraces his soul, reminding him of how much he was showered by the heavens so much presents of wonder and appreciation through his members, his friends, his family, and people who have showed him sheer admiration, and that he was not forsaken by the gears of destiny and that he is right where he rightfully should be.

What is there to murk over the darkness, when there is so much light that reaches along his way? Renjun smiles. It’s a smile he has probably never showed to anyone before: a smile so raw, so genuine it aches to be able to lift the corners of your mouth with such intense fervor. It is a smile that clenches the chest with so much force, and yet it is enough.

It is a smile of being so thankful to be loved.

And so instead of grazing the random patterns along his arms, Renjun lifts the pen upon his palms and writes the words that lingers upon his head. The wet wipes won’t be seeing the light anytime soon

_“I love you.”_

-

It slips unto Renjun’s memory about the ink spilled on his palm until the team was gathered back together to interact with the fans one more time before leaving the country. As he lays on the bed with the rest of the members, he unconsciously flashes his palms on Jisung’s sight.

Jisung reads the words written.

In a flash, Jisung reaches for Renjun’s hands as he uses his fingers to uncover the palms of the other rereading the words once again. It is too late for the young one to redact his actions.

“Hold on!”

When Renjun notices the action of the younger, he immediately pulls away and hides his hands along his arms. He is afraid of what commotion will be undone. The members won’t seem to pry away from the sight of his hands as they pull, _grab_ his hidden hands tucked beneath his elbows.

And although he sees smiles among their faces, he sees it in their eyes the glints of worry. Renjun knows that facades were worn for a few minutes to mask the trouble creeping upon the itches of their skin.

He knows Donghyuck doesn’t write on his palm.

He knows that it is within Jisung’s knowledge that Renjun _draws_ , not _write_.

Unless cameras were rolling at that time, the boys would have flocked around Renjun caressing him sweet proclamations and assuring whispers, basking him touches of warmth and tender in hopes it outstretches towards his soul. He felt deep in gratitude for the professionality clothed by his members and yet he knows it really isn’t a finality of the confrontation, it is an extension.

-

Cameras where turned off and the staffs monitoring the live slowly packs their stuff as their job has now ended. None of the members talk, tension high on the atmosphere. It wasn’t the tension that seemed like the silence before a hurricane, the draining of waves before a tsunami. Rather, it was a humid air before a light rainstorm, a gentle breeze before a passing wind.

Unmoving from their positions, Jaemin plays with Renjun’s fingers while Donghyuck traces his fingers along the clothed arms of the older waiting for the unwanted guests to finish their business quickly. When the last staff shuffles exit the room, Jeno scoots himself nearer to Renjun, sitting beside the legs of the smaller and plays along his hands. Jisung also makes himself comfortable on the other side of the bed as he mimics Jeno’s actions, eventually replacing Jaemin’s fingers with his browsing touches along the lines of the palm of Renjun. Chenle launches himself on top of Renjun, enveloping themselves into a hug.

“Renjun, are you okay?” Jaemin snuggles his face on the spaces between Renjun’s nape and shoulders.

“Yes, I am Nana. I’m fine.” Renjun smiles at Jaemin.

“So, you drew again today?” Haechan rubs soothing circles on the arms of the younger.

“Hmmm, more like write.” Renjun stares longingly at Haechan.

“So, what made you decide to write instead of drawing stuff?” Jeno grazes his touch along the words Renjun engraved on his hands.

“You. All of you.”

The rest stare at Renjun, lost painted upon their faces. But Renjun could only look at them.

“I was reminded of you guys, and I realized how much light I have in my life.”

Renjun scans over their gazes, as he slowly lifts the corners of his mouth, eyes painting so much adoration laying so much of himself in front of them.

“I realized I really didn’t need to draw. So I just wrote, what I think I wanted to tell so much.”

Jisung brings the older’s hands upon his lips.

Chenle leans on Renjun’s chest as he tightens his arms around the comfort of their embrace.

The worry never left their insides, it lingers within the pit of their stomach. But Renjun has laid himself upon them that night, made himself fall so they could catch him when he reaches near ground. It wavers the trouble that was there and settles itself away, tucked in some corner of their own universes.

Renjun gives them a shooting star, a comet rarely passing but enough to give grace and affirmation of the once empty promises they have given themselves.

Tonight, they chose to focus on the rare light passing. It will be an oath, a testimony, that they will continue to shed light on the dark walls inside the headspace of Renjun.

A seal of how they are willing to carry millenia of stars and place them one by one on Renjun’s night sky.

-

Renjun is iridescent. The way he is able to shape so much of what he is able to understand in order to unlock so much of what he hasn’t known yet. The way he focuses on an ant when he sees a whole garden. The way he delivers in the arms and eyes of others how a flight up above means learning to see down below.

How he inhales so much of the soft winds, the crashing waves, the flying petals in the air and surrenders it all to those who have not witnessed its own beauty. The way Renjun plucks out different pieces of life often tossed on the sidelines along the way, and hands them over to those who have seemed to forsake the forgotten landscapes.

It’s like he has the keys to the mystical drawers of the cosmos and hands the secrets to those that needs to learn its spells.

Renjun is merely a child of the celestials who wishes to understand the stars and their conversations with the vast dark sky. He simply wants to make friends to the secrets of the waters and the dusts and the flowers and the pirouettes of the butterflies that dance along the fingertips of the vast earth.

He was simply a child who wanted answers to his questions with the untold of the universe and yet he has given so much to those who chose not to ask. He was searching so much for answers when he has unknowingly given hundreds of it to others, laying it out on his palms like pieces of gold. Renjun has looked for so much he has found so many for the rest who never went to look anyway.

Renjun is a son of the heavens, and his arms are wide open to the warmth, the unrevealed, the showers from up so high as he shares this to his brothers and sisters.

-

Brush dips on red. Stroke. Renjun lingers his gaze over his arm before submerging the brush again on a clean water, hoping to wash away remnants of the vivid color with the simple movements of his hand. He then picks the brush up as he lets its fibers touch the blue paint. Renjun lets the instrument glide over the traces of his skin dancing along in mindless jazzes and smooth tiptoes as its kisses to remember the piece it has performed.

Click. The door opens and reveals a poke of head from Chenle, the smile laying upon his lips signifying the declaration of his presence in their team’s shared abode. The smile quickly disappears though, as Chenle furrows his brows together, distracted by the colors on the older’s arm.

“Ge, what are you doing?”

Renjun smiles at Chenle, not stopping to move along the brush on his skin.

“I’m painting on my skin. Doesn’t it look artistic?” Renjun lifts his arms towards Chenle, making the younger shake his head as a giggle escapes his throat.

“Whatever, ge.” The door closes.

The idea came all so sudden to Renjun. It was so much more than painting on skin, he thought to himself. It was treating the body as a canvass, bare enough to spill so much of the insides of oneself through pigments of hues, sketching in hopes to give light to what cannot be seen but easily felt; the skin is ready enough to lay upon the flowers of your own gardens and the hand-picked constellations you have written upon your zodiacs.

_Beautiful,_ Renjun thinks.

-

Renjun is beautiful.

He is ethereal and a gem of a person.

And sometimes, Renjun is far. But it’s okay, they have already met halfway to see the light of the end of the road together.

Renjun is a wonder, a miracle, a blessing that fits right in the spaces within their team. They wouldn't have it any other way.

He is an iridescent child who wanted answers to his questions with the untold of the universe and yet he has given so much to those who chose not to ask.

And most of all, Renjun really liked to draw.

(Maybe, he’ll learn to love writing next time.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! Congratulations! Now here are a few fun facts that I can't seem to fit within the narrative because it's gonna be too word-y (MORE THAN WHAT IT IS NOW ALKJDFHS):
> 
> 1\. The time the dreamies first saw Renjun cut, Renjun was having a really bad day e.g. being scolded in practice, feeling homesick, etc. After practice hours, Renjun disappeared with a speed of light, which is why the members were looking for him. When they found him, it cuts to the scene above. (Also during this time, the dreamies were already a team but they have not debuted yet.)
> 
> 2\. It was the company's in-house guidance counselor that introduces Renjun to the psychologist that taught him the writing-on-skin technique. The guidance counselor saw the severity of the situation and realized that the intervention of a psychologist is needed.
> 
> 3\. In case you don't know, what Renjun actually wrote in his palm is somewhere along the lines of "Czennies, I love you!" (I'm sure there is more to the message, but I'm not Indonesian to idk the whole message asdffd sorryy). I just wrote the "I love you" part because it was a message not only to the fans but also to Renjun's loved ones in life.
> 
> 4\. Everybody in this fic actually views Renjun as something more than a friend. Some may not be aware of their harboring feelings, some do while others may not be sure where their feelings lie between the borders of a friend or a romantic interest. All they know is that the adoration and affection they feel for the boy exceeds those of a friendship. It's complicated, but when was love not complicated anyway? hahahahaha
> 
> That's it! Thank you so much for reading, once again. See you in the next fic, I guess? adskjgssfg  
> twitter: @marasahana  
> 


End file.
